Faded
by Craft Rose
Summary: It has been twelve years since Cissy Malfoy escaped the Abyss, and the bond she shares with her famed saviour grows stronger each day…in more ways than one. (Harry/OC with some light Draco/Hermione.) Warning: Coarse Language and Sexual Content).
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Welcome! **

**This is a spin-off from my Sleeping Beauty series. **

**For anyone who wants to read this story without reading the ones preceding it, I'll give you a short description. Draco and Hermione have a daughter named Cissy. She almost died at the age of four, but someone saved her. This person was Harry Potter. He died at the Battle of Hogwarts, before Draco and Hermione had even fallen for each other, and his spirit ended up saving Cissy from a hellish purgatory referred to as "The Abyss" and since then, she has grown into a young woman with a deep, deep connection to this Harry Potter, whom she hardly knows but at the same time...knows so well. **

**Their bond is through music and through a Golden Snitch he gave to her whilst in purgatory. **

**I hope that makes sense lol. **

**For more insight, read the epilogue of ****_Sleeping Beauty II: Taken_****. **

**Enjoy! **

The bass drum pounded through her body liked blood through her veins. It was that time already, the time she had craved all night. Her friends called it ecstasy, but she called it something else. There was only one place that could compare, only one place that made her feel so feverish, so terrified and so full of passion. She closed her eyes and envisioned this place — the dark, ominous sky and the earth as it pulsated beneath her feet.

The lightness in her chest took over, branching out from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes. She was ethereal. She didn't exist in this world, on this dance floor, with these people. She had crossed over to no man's land, to a place she had both feared and fancied for the past twelve years.

The music took her there.

"_Cissy_," someone whispered. "_Cissy, open your eyes…_"

She heard a voice. It was familiar. It was faint, in the back of her mind, like the morning sun washing over her unconscious body, as she lay draped across her four-post bed. She reached out, attempting to distinguish this feeling from the feelings around her — from the moving bodies and the drum in her chest.

"_Cissy!_"

The voice was louder now. It was spoken with urgency as opposed to the elusive, intangible voice from her dreams.

"_Cissy, come on! Your parents!_"

Something struck her chest. Something deep and dreadful. It rushed over her like a stampede, knocking the wind out of her lungs as her eyes shot open. She had fallen from her place in the clouds, from the sounds, feelings and images in her mind. She was back on a crowded dance floor with chewing gum stuck to the bottom of her combat boots and smudged mascara.

Panic.

"Come on! We have to go!" shouted the young man in front her — her best friend and co-worker from the record store. "Your parents got home three hours ago!"

Cissy slapped both hands over her skull, suddenly aware of the pulsing ache laced within her temples. "…What's happening?" she groaned, stumbling with him from the dance floor to the exit, and slamming into random strangers along the way.

The music slowly died out, as they left _Euphoria_. It was a wizarding nightclub located in the heart of London. Most times, Cissy wouldn't be caught dead in such a place, as it was known for playing the same garbage on the radios. But that night was different. It was a friend's birthday, and she couldn't just sit at home and read a book like she did the other six times her friends went out. Plus, a cute boy from the record store was deejaying, and his tunes far surpassed her expectations.

But there was one looming problem — two, actually.

"Your parents have been ringing me for the past three hours," Finn explained, her best friend and co-worker, and in that moment, her saviour.

Finn was Muggle-born and because of that, carried a mobile phone with him at all times. She used to have her own, but it made an unfortunate tumble into the toilet whilst she was brushing her teeth a couple weeks back, thereby destroying it — but that, of course, was a _total _accident. It had nothing to do with her constant, yet constantly unsuccessful attempts at evading her parents' controlling, overprotective nature.

"You, my friend, are in heapsof trouble," he furthered, flagging a cab.

Cissy grimaced. "I can feel it coming. Another three hour lecture about _behaving responsibly and acting with class as opposed to sass_. Just what I need after such a shit week."

The pair of them filed into a cab, as it smoothed to stop at the curb of _Euphoria_. "Better than what my mum used to do to me back in Melbourne. _So _glad I don't live at home anymore," Finn regaled. "I remember this one time she found a bong in my book bag and as punishment, she made me mow everyone's lawn in our neighbourhood for a fucking month. It was the middle of summer, too."

"Number twelve, Grimmauld Place," Cissy told the cabbie, resting her head against the window.

Finn tossed her a quizzical look. "You don't want to go directly home?"

"I can't go there like this," she motioned, waving a hand over her tight black dress and torn nylons. "I smell like vodka."

The middle-aged cabbie stared at them through the rear-view mirror and choked on his laugh, either amused or disgusted. Probably both. It must have looked even worse, seeing as _Euphoria _was glamoured to look like a run-down VHS store in order to keep the Muggles away.

"Grimmauld Place it is," Finn agreed, rummaging through the pockets in his leather jacket for what appeared to be breath-mints. "Here — this should help."

Cissy hurriedly took four, popping all of them in her mouth in one go. "_Fanks_," she mumbled.

The vehicle whizzed from _Euphoria_ to the opposite end of town, taking the sixteen and nineteen-year-old-with it.

"Do you think they'll ground you?" asked Finn.

"I've no idea," answered the blonde, running both hands through her hair in order to comb out the tangles. It was all stuck together thanks to a drunken chav and his loose grip on a pint of Guinness. "I just — I have to think of something believable. I told them I would be out with you for a film and some chips…"

Finn snorted with laughter. "That sounds believable."

"Shut up."

A gradual silence fell over the conversation, allowing Cissy the time and headspace needed to form some sort of explanation for her whereabouts. Her parents were old, but they weren't old enough to be fooled by the same excuses her friends from Hogwarts used with theirs. To her knowledge, her parents were quite young when they had her — about nineteen. This meant they were always the youngest of all the older folk at King's Cross at the start of term, and they were definitely difficult to fool.

The cab made its last turn and reached Grimmauld Place. It was a tall brick structure located in a Muggle neighbourhood, and used to be the headquarters for the famed Order of the Phoenix. Ron Weasley had since bought and refurbished the place in order to live out his transformation, but he only used it during full moons. This provided his goddaughter and her friends with a perfect place to rejuvenate and clean up, before heading home.

"Thanks a bunch," Finn told the cabbie, handing him a wad of crumpled cash with a tip that was probably too high. But that was typical Finn.

The young wizard had worked tons of odd jobs over the years, having left home at fifteen, and did what he could to give extra whenever possible. It was one of his stand-out qualities, and a huge reason Draco and Hermione decided he was good enough to be friends with their precious daughter.

Their friendship was a strange, but strong one.

"All right," Cissy breathed, unveiling Number Twelve and entering through the front door. "I need to find my things."

Finn closed the door behind them and locked it with a spell, before climbing up the stairs and scanning the lounge area. It had been cleared out to make room for the werewolf owner, which meant no furniture and hardly any hiding places for booze and the occasional blunt, but there was _one _place.

The pair of them moved closer to the fireplace and kicked open one of the loose floorboards, where a small bag of clothes and necessary toiletries remained hidden. Cissy knelt down and opened the bag, halfway through stripping off her dress and into a pair of jeans and a cardigan, by the time Finn joined her. It wasn't a big deal changing in front of him. By then, she had done it hundreds of times. He wasn't exactly interested in women, anyway.

"Don't forget this," he urged, handing her some body spray. "You really do smell like vodka."

Cissy ignored his jest and sprayed about a quarter of the bottle on herself, until the entire lounge was left smelling like vanilla. "Right — how do I look?" she asked, rising from the scratched flooring.

Finn rose with her and tapped a finger on his chin, tilting his head to the side as he scanned her from the bottom up. "Your hair is still a bit wonky, but that's just genetics, isn't it?"

"_I'm being serious_," she whined.

"Fine, fine," he laughed. "You look fine. Your parents will be none the wiser."

Cissy scrunched her mouth to the side. "You sure?"

"Well — no, they're not idiots."

"Thanks for your vote of confidence," she frowned, turning to the fireplace. "This would be so much easier if I hadn't asked them about _Euphoria _last week."

Finn nodded along. "Rookie mistake. _Never _ask for permission. It only provokes them into thinking you'll disobey their wishes later on."

"Which I did," she reasoned, grabbing some Floo Powder from the container atop the mantel, before turning to face her best friend. "Wish me luck."

"Oh, you'll need more than luck this time around," he winked, giving her a salute. "It was nice knowing you, Narcissa Malfoy."

There was a twitch along Cissy's bottom lip. She hated her given name. It was touching that she'd been named after grandmother, but something about that named sounded so…_severe_. She sometimes wondered if the rumours were true, and if her paternal grandparents truly had been nightmares. Her parents — namely her mother — dispelled these rumours and assured her Narcissa Sr. and Lucius were good, honest people, but Cissy had known her mum long enough to know when she was lying.

To her misfortune, that intuition ran both ways.

She closed her eyes and released the Floo Powder, announcing her home address as though it were her final destination, and sucked in a sharp breath as her body was engulfed in green flames.

* * *

It was on rare occasion that Draco Malfoy was truly cross with his daughter. As a loving father, his natural instincts told him to protect her and understand her, but recent developments made that quite difficult. She had always been quite different from her parents — sorted into Ravenclaw and showing talents in the arts — but her teen years truly had come without warning. She went from being his darling little girl to a grown woman with enough sass and stubbornness to give her mother a run for her money.

Draco usually appreciated that fighter spirit, but certain things about her recent behaviour left him worried and confused.

"I'll wait for her," he told his wife, massaging the strain from her shoulder and back muscles. "You should turn in. I know you've got a busy morning tomorrow."

Hermione had spent the better part of the past three hours pacing their flat from one end to the other. She tried not to be a head-case, but having a teenaged daughter made that quite difficult.

"I don't know…" she frowned, worried lines streaking her forehead. "What if something happened to her? Should we have alerted the Ministry or the police or —?"

"She's fine," Draco interjected, pressing his lips on the bridge of her nose. "I'm sure she's out with Finn doing the usual. It — It's not ideal for her to stay out all night, but I'd rather she do it with him than with those other friends. He's a good lad. He takes care of her."

The brunette breathed in. "You're right."

The married couple sat in silence for a moment, before Draco rose with his wife and ushered her back to the bedroom. She had been working insane hours as of late, due to some problems within the department, and that night had been her first night off in about three weeks. They had gone to see _Les Miserables _with Gemma and Ron, and topped the double date with a glass of wine, leaving Cissy to spend the evening with her best friend.

But, as most nights turned out, she had other plans.

Draco closed the door behind him, waiting for it to click shut, before strolling back into the lounge and pausing, as he heard hurried footsteps go from the fireplace to the opposite corridor.

"_Freeze_," he ordered.

There was something moving in the shadows. It was small with wild, curly hair and bright youthful eyes — eyes that regarded him with more caution than he had ever seen.

Cissy stepped forth, head tilted to the floor and shoulders slouched. "Hi."

"There are so many things I could say right now," Draco started, rubbing the fatigue from his face. "But I'm tired of repeating myself."

"I'm sorr —"

"No," he cut in, earning her full attention, as she glanced up at him with a mixture of surprise and alarm tugging at her facial features. "No apologies. I don't want to hear that _you're sorry _and that _you'll never do it again_. I want to _know _it. I want to _trust _you, but you're making that very, very difficult."

Cissy blinked once. "Am I grounded?" she asked, speaking slowly.

Draco sighed. "I don't think grounding you will make a difference," he confessed, bringing her to one of the sofas and sitting across. "I know it's hard being the only one of your friends with overprotective parents and all that — trust me — but do you know _why _we worry about you so much?" he asked, searching through her eyes for an answer. "Do you remember?"

His daughter shifted her gaze to the window, where the half moon was visible over the clouds. "I remember," she spoke. "It's kind of hard to forget."

"I was in pieces when you were gone," Draco told her. "Your mother, as well."

"It was a long time ago…"

"I know," he nodded, having tried his best to control the natural concern that flooded his veins whenever Cissy was out of his sight. "But I don't want to feel that way again. I don't want to lose you again."

"You won't," she promised, looking to him moist-eyed. "I just…I…sometimes…I want to have fun and do things other than read and revise and practice the piano. I love those things — I do — but I'm also sixteen and…and I'm just so confused about everything right now."

Draco placed a hand on her shoulder. "I understand. I've been there," he uttered. "I don't mind that you want to live your life and be your age, but you can't honestly sit there and tell me you haven't been partying and drinking all night. It's not good for someone so young, Ciss. You know better."

She moved her head up and down, accepting his words. "I — I do know better, and starting tomorrow I'll try to act better, too."

Her father smiled. "You are a bright, beautiful young woman and I will never give up on you — no matter what happens. Know that."

Cissy glanced up and for the first time in months, wrapped her small arms around his neck and gave him a hug. "Thanks, Daddy."

Draco closed his eyes and breathed out. "Maybe have a bath before bed. You smell like a Tube Station."

* * *

**_ONE HOUR LATER _**

Cissy positioned herself across from the full-length mirror propped up near her bedroom door, and stared deeply into the reflection. Having taken her father's advice and popped into the bath for a quick wash, her hair was smooth and damp, soaking into the fabric of her nightgown. It was thin and white, and something she had from about five years back. Her body had grown since then, which meant the nightgown was a little smaller than it should have been. The bottom hem reached well above her upper thigh — in a way that would have made even Finn blush — but the temperature outside was blazing hot.

There was really no choice in the mater.

The blonde turned to her bed and sunk deep into the creme-coloured duvet. It was sunrise in about three hours, which meant she had five hours to rest before her morning shift at the record store. She usually didn't need much more than that to function, being a teenager and all, but something was different that night.

Her eyes closed.

A song came on. It was set on a low volume and hummed in the background of her complicated thoughts, but it may as well have been full blast for the way her body responded to it. She immersed herself in the lyrics and the tune. It had been so long since she had heard this, and yet…everything about it was familiar.

It took three, maybe four seconds until that fluttery feeling returned to her chest.

There was a part between her lips, from where she tried to control her breathing, but her efforts were wasted against what happened next.

There were times in her life, when she had found herself in dangerous situations — situations that would have terrified most people — but something inside her made her feel invincible. It wasn't bravery or courage or a shrewd sense of what to do. It wasn't anything that her parents had been known to show, when the situation arose. It was different. It grappled at her insides, leaving her heated and breathless. It made her heart pound and her lips tremble.

It consumed her.

Cissy exhaled, feeling the temperature rise around her neck and forehead. She tried to stop and go to sleep and forget about all of this, but she couldn't. Her mind told her one thing and her body told her another. There was something in the air that night, something that she couldn't touch…only feel.

She closed her eyes and remembered that moment…when she was young…when her innocence had been stolen…when the darkness in her soul had awoken for the first time…but most important…when she had been saved. She closed her eyes even tighter and remembered _him_, a young man fated to die…a young man who had traversed unspoken realms to find her…a young man she would never and could never forget.

His voice.

His touch.

Everything.

The heaviness in her chest lessened some, as that same smooth, sleek object came to life, brushing over her eyelashes and her cheeks and for the first time, her lips.

She opened them, only to speak.

_I miss you._

But those words didn't come from _her _mouth.

**A/N: Thanks for reading this chapter! I hope you liked it. Do tell me your thoughts. Oh and the song that came on is once again, "Your Bones" by ****_Of Monsters and Men._** **It's kind of Harry's anthem. Give it a listen! **

**The song this story is named after is "Faded" by ****_ZHU_****. KILLLER song. I love it so much. I imagine it as the song Cissy was dancing to at ****_Euphoria_****. **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I want to emphasize the fact that the character of Cissy is ****not**** self-insertion. I'm terrible when it comes to music and never, not even once, snuck out of my parents' house a as a teenager haha. **

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! **

Those words repeated over and over again, until sunrise broke through her curtains and showered her bedroom in its orange glow. It was difficult, after that, to function without stirring suspicion in her co-workers. Finn had been the first to notice, and recognized the blush on her cheeks alongside the clumsiness in each movement as tell-tale signs.

There was nothing that could fluster a teenaged girl quite like new love, and as hard as Cissy tried to deflect Finn's annoyingly accurate intuition, she couldn't sit around and pretend nothing had happened — not after the previous night.

"Go on," Finn pressed, holding the door open as they entered Cissy's bedroom. It was a slow day at the record store, so their boss sent them home early, with enough time to attend the music festival in Ottery St. Catchpole. "Did this mystery man write a haiku about your beautiful, platinum locks, or throw pebbles at your window?"

The blonde shot her best friend a deathly glare, whilst rifling through the mess of clothes on her floor. It was always difficult finding something to wear, when all her things were scattered about in piles, as opposed to drawers.

Finn casually lifted some garments from the floor, comprising of an off-white skater dress and some patterned stockings. "It's borderline sadistic watching you construct an outfit," he shuddered. "Here — these should do."

"Thanks," Cissy grimaced, slipping behind the divider to change. It wasn't unusual for Finn to arrange her clothing combinations. He may have been a rightgitbut he also had an eye for fashion. "By the way, last night was so bizarre."

"What happened?" he asked, combing through his quiff in front of the mirror.

She paused. "I — erm —" There were two paths this conversation could have taken. The first one involved divulging to Finn the discussion she had with her father…but the second path led to something she had never told anyone. "What — What are your thoughts on ghosts?"

Finn glanced to the divider. "Ghosts_?_"

"Ghosts," she confirmed, fumbling a bit with her stockings. "As in, the deceased."

"Bit grim, don't you think?"

"I — I know — I just —" Cissy bumped into the divider, struggling to reach the zipper on the back of her dress. "_Mother f —_" The divider fell with a hard **thud**, exposing her with the entire back of the dress undone and the stockings still around her ankles.

Finn choked down his laughter and rushed to help, gathering the girl and the divider the from the mess on the floor. "Here —" He turned and zipped her up, bringing her to the mirror. "I don't think I've ever seen you in something other than black."

Cissy tilted her head to the side and took in her reflection. The dress was from her mother — one of Hermione Granger's countless attempts at prettifying her rebel of a daughter. "Right, well, I look like a knob."

"An adorable knob," he smiled. "Now let's move. I don't want to get stuck in the back like last time."

* * *

Hermione entered the house through the front door and set down her things, utterly exhausted from her workday. It was one thing to spend the entire day at the office, but to spend most of the night there as well was starting to do her head in.

"I think I'm going to take a week off," she decided, having never uttered those words since her pregnancy.

Draco arched an eyebrow — first shocked, then gleeful, then worried — as he made finishing touches on their late dinner. It was grilled mushroom risotto with tiramisu for dessert, and, of course, some wine imported straight from Italy. "Did something happen at the office?"

His wife sighed with fatigue and found his side by the kitchen counter. "Nothing in particular. I just need a break from everything."

"Everything?" he asked, wiping his hands on the towel slung over his shoulder, but only to pull her in for a quick kiss. "Even…me?"

"Never," Hermione smiled, stealing a quick taste of the tiramisu. "You've outdone yourself, Mr. Malfoy. What's the occasion?"

Draco plated their food and transported everything to the dining table, with a couple flicks of his wand. "I thought my wife could use some cheering up."

The brunette smiled even deeper and nodded in thanks, as he pulled out her chair for her and draped a white napkin over her lap. "You spoil me too much."

"Nonsense. I don't spoil you enough," he remarked, finding his seat beside her as opposed to across from her, but only so they could remain close. "In fact, I think you should come with me for the signing in Amsterdam. It's next week."

Hermione stuffed her mouth with risotto, practically moaning with satisfaction. It was a bit of a sore subject, but she couldn't cook to save her life, which make their marriage all the more perfect. Her husband was as fabulous in the kitchen as he was in bed. "It is overnight?"

"It can be," Draco winked.

She couldn't help but giggle. Even then, sixteen years later, their romance was still going strong. "As much as I'd love to go with you…I don't think it's wise for us to leave Cissy here alone."

An almost exasperated look tugged at Draco's facial features. It appeared he had forgotten all about the obvious. "We can take her with us or send her to Ron and Gemma's for the night."

"She'll hate that," Hermione predicted, having a drink from glass of wine. "It's the last couple weeks before summer is over. You remember that feeling, don't you?"

"I always liked school," he shrugged.

His wife nodded. "Me too, but our daughter is different. She has things going on outside of Hogwarts. She has her music. She has her friends. She has the record store. She has Finn."

Draco paused on the last part. "What are you thoughts on Finn?"

"He has a kind heart," the brunette offered. "Why do you ask?"

"Do you think they're…you know…_dating_?"

Hermione held her napkin up to her mouth, stifling that laughter that tickled her throat. "I think there's a small problem in that theory," she whispered, relishing the confused look on her husband's face. "Finn, as they say, swings his Beater's bat for the other team."

Draco's jaw slammed open. "…_really_?"

"Really," his wife laughed. "I can't believe you didn't know!"

"Well — bloody hell," he sighed. "That's a relief. All those times they would wander into her bedroom alone…" The strain in his facial muscles lessened some. "Have you any idea the sleep I've lost over this?"

Hermione was in hysterics now, dropping her silverware on the table. "You, my wonderful husband, are so dense."

"How was I supposed to know?" Draco frowned, feigning hurt. "That boy follows her around like a lost puppy — always holding the door open and looking after her and making sure she gets home safe."

"Like I said, he has a kind heart, _and_ they've been friends for ages. I'm sure there's nothing more to it."

The wizard thought for a moment. "I don't know…" he told his wife. "It's the way he looks at her sometimes. Have you noticed?"

Hermione finished off what was left on her plate and dabbed her lips before getting a start on dessert. "I've noticed," she confessed. "But I don't think there's anything going on between them. Finn is three years older than her, lives on his own and has two jobs. As fond as he is of our daughter, I doubt he sees her as more than a best friend. Their lives are in completely different places."

"I s'pose…" Draco agreed, pouring some more wine.

"Where is our daughter anyway?"

"She's at that music festival in Ottery St. Catchpole," he answered, a little fearful of his wife's reaction. "I told her she could go, so long as she's home before midnight."

Hermione forked off some tiramisu and slid it into her husband's mouth. "So…before sunrise?"

"Probably."

* * *

There was a large roar from the audience, as _Muse_ entered the main stage. It went without saying that their music was legendary. The band, which consisted of three half-blood wizards from Devon, crossed over into Muggle music in the year 1994 and since then, has been a legend in both communities.

The adrenaline and excitement that coursed through Cissy's veins multiplied, as 'Supermassive Black Hole' pounded her eardrums. She couldn't decide which was better: being in the same vicinity as one of her all-time favourite bands or being able to share this experience with her best friend. The young girl turned, expecting to find Finn in the same dazed disarray, but instead found dozens upon dozens of strangers, all singing and jumping to the tune.

Her eyes darted from one end of the area to the other. It wasn't like Finn to leave her side at a music festival — or anywhere, for that matter. He made a point to stay together and look after one another in such large, unpredictable crowds.

_He's probably gone to the loo_, she told herself, attempting to control the nervous feeling in her stomach. _That has to be it…_

Cissy forced her attention back to the main stage and continued dancing to the music, but the nervous feeling in her stomach only increased. She breathed in and out, suddenly panicked. It wasn't from inebriation, seeing as she hadn't dabbled in any of the substances being passed around. For some reason, the talk she had with her father the previous night had really done a number on her.

The blonde turned and pushed her way through the crowd, receiving more than a lines of obscenity from the surrounding strangers. It had been hours since she and Finn had arrived at the festival, and until then he'd been by her side the entire time. There had to be something wrong. Her gut feeling told her something was wrong.

The girl broke into a sprint, dashing from the main stage to the public toilets. The line was long and winding. She couldn't distinguish these people from her best friend. There were too many of them. His head of chestnut brown hair was lost in the crowd, almost as much as she was.

Cissy gasped, knocked to the grass as a group belligerent festival goers pushed her aside and out of their path. There was now a visible tear on her stockings and her dress was stained with green — but she didn't care about those things. The only thing running through her mind was to find her best friend and make sure he was all right. All those years of being friends, Finn had always taken care of her and made sure returned home in one piece. It was now her chance to return that favour, and she would _not _mess it up.

There was some more profane remarks thrown in her direction, as she pushed herself from the grass and cut through the line. To her memory, Finn was dressed in his usual fitted jeans and white henley, paired with black motorcycle boots and his prized leather jacket. She couldn't remember whether or not he had a flannel shirt tied around his waist.

But none of that mattered, as she couldn't see overtop the giant crowd as it was.

Cissy paused mid-step, overcome with the panic in her chest. This had never happened before. Even if Finn went to the loo, he would have told her before going. It wasn't like him to abandon her like that. She bent down and retrieved the wand from inside her left boot, before sending an alert.

It may have been a rash decision but she would rather have been safe than sorry. If for some reason, something had happened to Finn, she would know within minutes of standing there alone. This was their system of trying to find one another, on the rare occasion that they were separated. Send an alert and wait for the other to come find you near the loo. The only problem was that there were countless public toilets set up on the outskirts of the main stage, as well as the other stages.

_Come on, Finn. Come on. Please come back. I'll never tease you for humming show-tunes under your breath ever ag—_

The air from her lungs vanished and Cissy was left there, utterly bewildered, as something whizzed past the corner of her eye. She turned, and found a peculiar object soaring through the crowd, practically weaving a path for her. It was small, circular and golden. The girl followed it, tossing looks around her, wondering why the other people weren't freaking out as much as she was. _Could they even see it?_

It led her away from the public toilets and deep into the other side of the area, near the forest. The music from the main stage faded into the distance, transitioning from 'Supermassive Black Hole' to something a little slower. She recognized this track, but the title was lost on her. Her thoughts were in a completely different place. She couldn't focus on the music. She could only focus on the Golden Snitch, as it flew several paces into the forest and then hovered near a large tree that stood remarkably higher than the others.

Cissy tossed a look over her shoulder, wondering if anyone had followed her. But the crowd was far, far away — with heads as small as ants. She was alone. There were no overly aggressive festival goers in this part of the area. There was no Finn. There was only herself and the Golden Snitch. She turned, attempting to refocus her attention on the object in question, before a sharp, borderline paralyzing force grasped the space in her chest, where her heart was beating as wild as an animal in captivity.

The girl tumbled backwards, slamming her head against a nearby tree and within miliseconds, seeing stars.

But those weren't the only things she could see.

There was a shadowy figure in front of her. It was tall, taller than her father, and smelled distinctly of crisp, mountain air. She breathed in this scent, filling her lungs and nostrils, acutely aware of the rise in her chest. Something about this — this _figure_ — carried an aura of familiarity, like her family and her most cherished friends, only different.

Cissy opened her eyes, having closed them to catch her breath, and found a pair of emerald green orbs staring back at her.

"You…" she whispered, practically panting.

There was a moment of silence, washing over the scene like high tide over a sandy beach. It can't have been real…but it was. Over the years, her memory had distorted quite a few aspects of her childhood, but her memory of _him_ remained untouched. It had been twelve years since she had last seen that messy, black hair and those deep, daring eyes. She couldn't figure out if this was a hallucination, if this was all just a product of the dreams she had suppressed since the age of four.

But her heart told her this was real, and that the young man staring back at her was, in fact, the same one that haunted her sleep _every single night_.

She breathed in. "Are you — Are you real?"

There was a change in the atmosphere, as the words left her mouth. It was like the other night, when she had taken a bath and prepared to rest, only to hear that voice in the back of her head…his voice. Only this time, it wasn't just a voice she could hear. There was a _person _in front of her, in the flesh, frozen at seventeen years old but carrying the experiences and wisdom of someone much, much older.

"I'm as real as your will allows me to be," he answered, kneeling across from her and speaking in the same riddles she remembered from The Abyss.

Again, the pair of them had met in a forest, with wind ruffling the leaves and tree branches, and whisking the hair from her shoulders.

She blinked, only then realizing there was moisture along her lower lash line. "Was it — Was it you?" the girl struggled to ask. "Last night…"

There was a part in his lips, from where she hoped he would give her the answer she had yearned since hearing those heart-stopping words. _I miss you. _Just the memory of those words brought her to near breathlessness. She fixed her gaze on him — on the broadness of his shoulders, on the pink of his lips and his cheeks, on the movement along his neck, as he searched for an answer to her question, and most of all, on the lightening bolt scar that had marked him since infancy.

**A/N: Thanks for reading this chapter! Do tell me your thoughts.**

**I've posted the cast for this fic on my blog, featuring Finn. Check it out! **

**Oh and the song for this chapter is "Undisclosed Desires" by ****_Muse. _**

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Short one! Sorry this took so long. **

There were countless aspects in this existence that made little sense, but none made less sense than the connection he shared with his best friend's daughter. It was clear then, that the pair of them were tethered — forging a path between his world and hers. Through this looking glass, he watched her grow from a curious little girl to a brilliant young woman. She was clever. She was bold. She was a rebel at heart and had more fight in her than Harry had seen in a long, long time.

It made him feel alive to be around her, to feel her energy.

Her happiness. Her excitement. Her dreams. Her laughter. It was all so bright and beautiful, like fireworks in the summer sky. But it wasn't just those things that drew him to her. It was also the deeper, darker things. Her sadness. Her confusion. Her loneliness. And most recently, her heartache. It fell over him and coaxed him into checking up on her more often than he ever had, with the strength of a million tidal waves dragging him to that same looking glass.

But the more times this happened, the more he realized this was not a mistake.

She wanted him there.

More than that, he wanted to be there.

His name ghosted over her lips on more than one occasion, either in her sleep or when she thought nobody was there to listen. As a little girl, she had spoken it with fondness and childlike curiosity. But as she grew older, her tone changed into something that made blood rush to his cheeks, as he watched over her.

Her guardian.

Her protector.

Her keeper.

_Harry_, she would whisper, into her pillow or through the steam that rose from her bath. _Harry Potter_.

It was wrong. It was incredibly wrong, for him to let his happen. She was young. She was nearly twenty years his junior. She was young enough to be his daughter. But as he stood across from her in the forest, tethered to her and brought to the realm of the living by her panic, he couldn't help but take notice in the fact that any outsider would see they were not so different. Frozen at seventeen, he appeared not much older than she.

"Was it — Was it you?" Cissy struggled to ask, sprawled over the grass with moisture collecting along her lower lash line. "Last night…"

The deceased wizard stared between her bright, binding eyes and struggled as much with his answer as she did with her question. He knelt down, eliminating some of the distance between them, and nodded.

She sucked in a slow, sensational breath. "How is this — How is this possible?"

"I'm here because of you," he uttered, watching the drop in her expression. "I'm here _for _you."

Cissy blinked — just once. "Can _they _see you?" she asked, tilting her head towards the faraway crowd.

Harry opened his mouth to respond. "I — I —" But something kept those words on the tip of his tongue. There was a change in his breathing pattern, and a change in the way the wind rustled through the leaves overhead. It was clear, in that moment, that something was profoundly wrong.

In the distance, there was a scream.

"_Finn_," the girl breathed, clapping a hand over her mouth before struggling to get up. "I — I need to find him. I need to — to —"

"Here —" In one effortless movement, Harry helped the blonde to her feet and waved the Golden Snitch to the narrow space between them. "Follow this."

* * *

There was a swift blow to his ribcage, undoubtedly cracking the barrier over his heart and lungs, where each breath was strained and filled with ache. He groaned into the damp earth, clutching at his chest and his gut, where several more blows were given. There was music in the background, so loud that it drowned out the sound of his suffering, but not nearly loud enough to drown out his attackers and the names they hurled at him.

_Freak. _

_Queer. _

_Scum. _

It went without saying that he had heard these names before, but none of those names hurt as bad as the one etched into the skin of his left forearm. In that moment, he wasn't just different...he was defenceless. The attackers had made sure of it.

* * *

Hermione rolled onto her side, watching as her husband's chest rose and fell in rhythm with his breathing. There was something serene about watching him sleep. It gave her peace to know he was fine — alive. They had been through so much. There were still nights in which their adventures kept her awake. This night was no different. She closed her eyes and saw visions of the Battle of Hogwarts, visions of her fallen allies and visions of all the blood and corpses.

Both she and Draco had gone to marriage counselling following their remarriage, but she was now beginning to consider therapy. Hermione wasn't alone in her struggles. Her husband struggled. Their friends, too. And as young as she was, it appeared their daughter struggled the most.

The brunette breathed out, forcing her eyes shut and dragging the cover over her head. It would be daylight soon, and Cissy had yet to return from the music festival. She figured Finn had invited their daughter to spend the night in his flat, which would usually have sent most mothers into a panic, but Hermione had never felt threatened when it came to her daughter's best friend. Finn reminded her of someone…someone honourable and kind and generous.

Draco stirred beside her, as something vibrated against the bedside table closest to him. It was their shared mobile phone — used for emergencies and to get a hold of their daughter when the situation called for it. But in that moment, someone was trying to get a hold of them.

"Wh — What's going on?" yawned the wizard, rubbing the fatigue from his tired eyes.

Hermione reached over his body and had one look at the lock screen. "It's Finn," she uttered, tossing her husband a worried look before answering the call. "Hello?"

"_Mum?_"

"Cissy?" she asked, surprised to hear her daughter's voice. "Is something wrong?"

"_…I need your help._"

Her suspicions were confirmed. She could hear it in the sound of her daughter's voice. "Where are you?"

There was a pause on the other end, as if Cissy were struggling to breathe. She was crying. She had to be crying. "_I'm at the hospital…_"

Hermione froze. "The _hospital_?" she repeated. "What — What happened? Are you okay? Are you —"

"_I'm fine,_" Cissy interjected, voice breaking. "_It — It's Finn. He was — He was attacked at the — at the festival._"

The phone nearly slipped from Hermione's grasp, but Draco was there to catch it. It was clear then, that he had heard most of the conversation. "Ciss?" he spoke, simultaneously rubbing the spot between his wife's shoulder blades in an attempt to keep her calm. "Everything will be fine. Just tell us which hospital and we'll be right there."

**A/N: Thanks for reading! I'll try to get the next chapter up quicker. The song playing whilst Finn was getting attacked: "Cave" by ****_Muse. _**

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	4. Chapter 4

There was a sliver of sunshine that slipped through the crack between the curtains. It was early morning, and Cissy had yet to leave Finn's bedside. The nurses and healers had left them be for the night but they were to return in about an hour's time. Finn's vitals were of course being monitored in case of emergency. Thus far, he had showed no signs to cause panic. He was in stable condition.

Thankfully.

The young girl's eyes fluttered open and she straightened herself on the rickety wooden chair, having dozed off for a couple minutes. It had been a long night. It seemed whenever she closed her eyes, she saw visions of her best friend sprawled across the grass with bloodied hair and clothes. It didn't matter how much she prayed to the gods she didn't believe in, or hoped for a miracle. Those visions weren't nightmares. They were real.

Finn had been beaten senseless …and for no other reason than because he was gay.

Her eyes drifted to the word carved into his left forearm. It hurt. It hurt each and every time she remembered that word was there, etched to his skin as a reminder.

_Faggot. _

Cissy ignored the tears falling from her eyes and leaned closer, pressing her lips on the bridge of Finn's nose. The medication given to him had rendered him unconscious for most of the night. The healers assured her that he was all right, but the worry in her chest just wouldn't subside. It went without saying, that she cared deeply for this young man. He was the only person in her life she had learned to love. He was her only true friend, and a brilliant one at that.

She watched him for a long while, before reaching for the item on her lap and coaxing it to life with just one touch.

Its feathery golden wings tickled her palm, sending a stream of curious shivers to the centre of her chest. It was this simple. It had always been this simple. Cissy held the Snitch to her mouth and whispered words to the cold, metallic object.

_Thank you. _

If it hadn't been for Harry, she would never have found Finn.

"…Who…are you…talking…to?"

The girl shifted her gaze ahead and found Finn staring back at her, swollen and bruised around the eyes and mouth, where his attackers had hurt him. There was a hitch in her chest, from where she held back the urge to launch at him with the strongest most heart-stopping embrace.

Instead, a single tear rolled down her cheek. "Finn — oh my goodness." Cissy clapped a hand over her mouth, practically shaking.

"How was — How was _Muse_?" he managed to ask, struggling to sit up.

"Don't move!" she urged. "The healers said you need to rest."

Finn ignored her comments and leaned against the barred headboard. "This is one hell of a hangover…"

The blonde couldn't help but smile. Even in distress, her best friend managed to maintain his usual sense of humour. "_Muse _were okay," she chimed in, catching his eyes in a tearful gaze. "I've heard better."

She was, of course, lying, but with purpose.

Finn tossed her a knowing look and groaned. "Remind me never to mosh again."

"This didn't happen because of moshing," Cissy uttered, quick as fire, eyes drifting to the marking on his arm. It was there, all the confirmation needed. "I should have been with you. I'm sorry I wasn't paying attention."

"Hey…" The young man reached over and placed his hand on hers, which was resting on the side of the bed. "None of this is your fault. Sometimes…these things happen. It's life."

"It's _not_," she interjected, blinking away fresh tears. "You need to — You need to speak with my Uncle Ron and file a complaint to the Auror Department. I'll go with you."

Finn eyes drifted downward. "I'm fine, Ciss."

"You're not fine."

"I _am_," he assured her, speaking through the pain.

Cissy breathed out, exasperated. "You're in hospital with bandages wrapped around you from head to toe. You're _not _fine."

"Listen," the young wizard cut through, shooting her a piercing look. "People like me, we don't have the same rights as normal witches and wizards."

"What are you talking about?" she asked, searching through his eyes for answers.

His expression turned hollow, as the words found him. "This isn't the first time I've been attacked."

It felt as though a ton of bricks had fallen on her from the high above, knocking the air from her lungs and the blood from her veins. Cissy watched her best friend, the absolution in his eyes and the acceptance. It broke her heart. It broke her heart to a million pieces.

"The amusing part is that I left Melbourne to escape the hate," he continued, running a bandaged hand through his matted hair. "But I've slowly learned there are somethings one can never escape."

"I thought — I thought Melbourne was quite progressive."

Finn glanced to her. "It is," he answered. "My mum isn't."

Cissy closed her eyes, unable to hold back any longer. In all this time, she had never known this part of her best friend's life. She knew him well, but only the parts he allowed. His sexuality was never a subject they discussed, though she did wonder from time to time.

"But none of that matters now," he furthered, squeezing her hand in his. "I have good friends here, friends who know me and accept me."

There was a pause in their conversation, wherein Cissy opened her eyes and drew in a single breath. "We're not friends," she told him, with so much conviction that she could have sworn his hand shook a little. "We're family."

* * *

Draco entered the bedroom, finding his wife in her nightgown with a Muggle novel in her hands and her bedside lamp turned on. It was quite late, far passed her usual bedtime, which begged the question.

"You're up late," he remarked, removing his shoes and then his tie.

Hermione glanced in his direction for only a second before turning the page. "I've been waiting for you."

"Really?" he asked, stepping into the joint loo to freshen up before bed. "Is — erm — Is something wrong?"

There was no response from her end, not until he left the loo and found her spread across his side of the bed, with the covers pushed off and nothing on apart from her wedding ring.

Draco breathed in, jaw practically hitting the hardwood floor. "Don't toy with me, woman…"

The brunette beckoned him forward with one finger and stood on her knees to meet him in an open-mouthed kiss. Her hands explored his hair and then his broad shoulders, where she could feel the muscles beneath his shirt. Suddenly there were no layers between them, nothing keeping them apart.

In the midst of this heated exchange, Hermione whispered something to her husband's lips, something that answered the question floating through his head of platinum blond hair.

_I'm ovulating. _

* * *

There was a song playing in the background. It was a slower number, soulful and different from her usual music selection. It was perfect for that night, for her first night home since the festival. She sunk into the lyrics and the tune, unbeknownst to the eyes that had been following her all night. He was careful about it, knowing in his core that this was wrong on countless levels.

…but there was something about her, something about her soul that dragged him back, searching for more.

This girl was different from the others. She had depth to her. She, like him, had been through so much at such a young age. There was, however, one cardinal difference between them. It was something he could never change, no matter how hard he tried.

"Are you there…?" she asked, eyes closed as she breathed in and out, causing the water around her chest to rock back and forth.

Harry was careful to make a sound. There was no reason for her to think he was in her presence, other than the fact that he was. His eyes drifted the Golden Snitch, to the object that connected them, to the object he had given her over a decade ago, to the object she had kept safe and sound all these years. It rested atop some folded towels on a nearly stool, an arm's distance from the tub.

Using that particular Golden Snitch, he had tethered their realms together, without even knowing. He remembered the first time he had felt her tug from the other side. It happened by mistake, when she was about five years old. Draco had taken it upon himself to teach his daughter how to ride a bike, and of course, as most children did, she fell rather hard on her first attempt.

In that moment, Harry felt her pain, her embarrassment and her defeat. It called to him like morning ambiance and allowed him passage into her realm, into the realm of the living.

He learned then, that he could see her.

But it wasn't until recently that he learned she could see him, too.

It was all in her emotions. It was all in the rate at which her heart would beat, be it fast or slow. She called to him. He answered.

"If you're here…" she furthered, fingering her hair into a messy bun and using her wand to hold it in place. "I want to say _thank you_ for helping me find Finn. I…I don't want to think about what would have happened, had you not been there to guide me."

Harry wanted to tell her something, to respond in some way, but his conscience told him to remain silent. No good could come from speaking to her like this, when she was in such a comprising situation. In fact, he shouldn't have been there at all. He should have been in the darkened forest that was his existence, not watching this girl…this child.

"I — I've been thinking about you a lot lately," she continued, speaking in that same hushed voice that made the blood rush to his cheeks. "For the longest time, I didn't know if what happened in that forest was real. I didn't know if you had actually been there, spoken to me and given me that Golden Snitch. Even then, at four years old, I knew it was far-fetched and so I didn't tell my parents about it — but that didn't stop me from thinking and dreaming and hoping that you were real."

Something in her breathing changed. It slowed, at the same moment the music did. "It's been twelve years and I've yet to erase the image of you from my mind, not that I've tried particularly hard."

A smile ghosted over Harry's lips, as he listened.

"I've listened to my mother's stories about you all my life. She speaks about you with so much fondness and so much life, despite what happened. I — I wasn't there to know you when you were alive, but everyone who did know you says the same thing." Cissy exhaled, evenly. "You're a hero."

Those words echoed in his mind moments afterward, in her voice, with those same inflections. People had called him a hero all his life, but something about hearing those words come from her made them sound different…almost real.

"But heroes deserve happy endings," she spoke, moist-eyed as she stared through the window and to the half moon. "I didn't know you when you were alive, but I wish I did. I wish I…I wish I could have been there, when you were with my mum and Uncle Ron. I wish I could have known you like them and been friends. I heard you were a great friend."

Harry blinked once, surprised when something fell from his lower lashes and down his cheek.

"Maybe — Maybe the reason you're able to see me and let me see you is because you haven't yet met your end."

There was a shift in the atmosphere. The spectacled wizard listened carefully, hearing those words over and over again. It had occurred to him that this could be true, but it wasn't possible. To his understanding, death was not finality. It was a pathway, and for some reason his path led to her…every inch and every turn.

Cissy, as if sensing his change, reached for the Golden Snitch and pressed it to her lips, using the metallic ball like a through-line from her realm to his. "I know you're here," she whispered. "I can feel you."

If there were ever a moment to turn back and immerse himself in the darkness that he had been destined to live through, it was then. But the young man remained still and watched her rise from the tub. He glued his eyes to her hair, to each individual curl that hung loose from her bun, bouncing as she moved from the tub to the place in front of the mirror, where she wrapped a fresh towel around her petite form and dabbed the wetness from her skin.

* * *

The air was humid. It could have been the steam from her bath or the fact that it was summer, but Cissy knew the answer and it had nothing to do with either of those factors. She tiptoed from the loo to her bedroom, leaving the door an inch or two open, though she couldn't imagine why.

It was between the moment she released her hair from the bun and the moment she slipped into her thin white nightgown, that something happened behind her.

The door closed.

It was so quiet, so still. In any other situation, she would surely have not noticed such a minor change, but something in the air heightened each and every one of her senses.

Cissy turned on her bare heel, nightgown clinging to her modest curves, and found him standing there.

"Hi," he whispered, before she found the words.

She breathed in, alarmed by the corporeal nature of his figure. From her vantage point, he didn't look at all like a ghost. There was nothing greyish or haunting about this wizard. He looked real. He sounded real. She wondered, deep down, if he felt real, too.

"Hi," she whispered back, frozen in place.

He — Harry Potter — stood roughly three feet from her. It was close. It was so close she could see the scar on his forehead and the greenness of his eyes. They were such a brilliant shade, so bright and so vibrant. It was her favourite colour.

"I — I suppose you heard all of that in there," Cissy managed to say. "In the loo."

Harry nodded, only once.

Her eyes drifted down, to the place where his neck met his shoulders. It seemed to move a little when she spoke, as though he were nervous or something.

Cissy carried on, knowing ahead of time that he was a person of few words. "Does it — Does it bother you when I reach out to you?"

There was a change in his expression. It was like day and night. The look in his eyes went from nervous to something much, much deeper.

"No," he spoke, as though it were known fact.

She allowed his answer and the sound of his voice to float through her body. It had only been a day, and yet it felt like a lifetime had come and gone since she'd heard him speak.

"I need to — I need to you know if you're real," Cissy stuttered, searching through his eyes for understanding, which she found within miliseconds. "I need to know that all of this isn't just some weird, twisted dream…"

The energy between them changed, as they stood across from one another, waiting for the other to speak or make a move. It happened slowly. Through the ticking of her bedside clock and the nighttime ambiance, the pair of them reached ahead with one hand and met palm-to-palm.

For the first time, she could feel him.

His skin.

His touch.

His body heat.

Their fingers intertwined, and just like that the tether between both their realms was not just a metaphor. It was real. _He _was real.

Cissy exhaled, having held her breath, feeling lightness in her head and warmth in her chest. She wasn't sure what made her do it, but right then, something told her to move closer.

She did.

It was barely anything, maybe six inches or so, but suddenly Harry released her hand and stepped back, colliding with the wall.

"What's wrong?" she asked, alarmed.

He tilted his head down. "Nothing. I — I should go."

Something tugged at her heartstrings. "No —" Cissy reached out and then stopped herself, feeling foolish for her reaction. "I — I —"

"I shouldn't be here," Harry interjected, speaking with calmness despite the disarray. "This isn't right."

"What do you mean?" she asked, genuinely confused.

The Chosen One looked to the thin fabric draped over her and then back. It was written in his eyes, every answer.

Cissy glanced down, feeling a pinkish blush creep up to her face and neck, before wrapping the kimono robe Finn had given to her around her body. It was still relatively short, hanging just above her knees, but it covered the necessary areas.

"There —" she spoke, waiting for the edge to leave him. "Don't — Don't go."

His eyes danced across the blueish silk. "How is — How is your friend?"

"Finn?" Cissy asked, thinking of him in the hospital bed. It wasn't her idea to leave St. Mungo's that night, but Finn insisted. She had been there for over twenty-four hours. "He's — He's in stable condition."

The expression on Harry's face softened some, as though he'd been worried all this time. "I'm sorry about what happened to him."

She nodded, thinking distantly of the state in which she had found her best friend at the festival. "He told me it wasn't the first time."

"That's horrible…"

Cissy shared this sentiment, closing her eyes to hold back the emotion. She felt like her father, crying over the slightest things. "Maybe…Maybe we should talk about something else…"

There was an air of silence between them, in which several tears fell from her eyes, before Harry stepped forward, closer and closer and closer, until moving right past her and towards her record collection. It went without saying, that she treasured her music and rarely let alone touch her records, but something about the way Harry handled them with so much caution and care gave her the impression that he knew how to touch something without breaking it.

"So you like music," he started, kneeling down, in front of her collection.

Cissy smiled. "I suppose you could say that." She kneeled beside him and watched as his eyes glossed over each record, before landing on one.

"Do you mind?" he asked, unbeknownst to the fact that he was holding her favourite record ever made.

Her smile deepened. "Not at all."

Harry rose from the hardwood and placed the large disc into place, before adjusting the needle to the correct spot. It happened then, that moment, that movie moment. It started out acoustic, and then there were lyrics, familiar lyrics.

_Today is gonna be the day_

_That they're gonna throw it back to you_

_By now, you should have somehow_

_Realized what you gotta do_

_I don't believe that anybody _

_Feels the way I do, about you now_

Cissy remained on the floor, watching as he approached her, wondering if this was actually happening, and then feeling herself rise to meet him as he lifted her up onto her feet. She stared between his eyes, caught in the midst of what she wanted and what she needed.

_Back beat, the word is on the street_

_That the fire in your heart is out _

_I'm sure you've heard it all before_

_But you never really had a doubt_

_I don't believe that anybody_

_Feels the way I do, about you now_

It was so surreal, everything that followed.

Their eyes locked.

His were green, flecked with hazel and shadowy under the dim lighting. "I listened to this song a lot the night before Bill and Fleur's wedding."

He spoke those names, as though she were meant to know them. Something about them sounded distantly familiar, but Cissy couldn't concentrate long enough to remember.

_And all the roads we have to walk are winding_

_And all the lights that lead us there are blinding_

_There are many things that I _

_Would like to say to you, but I don't know how_

She could only stand there, close enough to catch his scent of crisp, mountain air, inches away from him, away from those eyes that had once regarded her with cheer and those lips that had once spoken to her with an endearing quality she wouldn't soon forget. They weren't so different then, but in that moment those eyes deepened and those lips called out to her, without ever having moved.

She leaned forward, closer and closer and closer.

There was barely any distance left, none that mattered anyway. It was like each and every dream had been realized. He was there, in front of her. His hands were in her hands. His scent was caught in her nostrils. His breathing matched hers. His heartbeat pounded through her eardrums, almost as loud and as raucous as her own.

Just one more inch. Just one more inch.

_Because maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me_

_And after all, you're my —_

"Stop," he interjected.

Cissy froze, glancing up at him, horrified. "I — I —"

From the sound of his voice, she assumed he was angry or disturbed, but the look in his eyes spoke different volumes. He looked…disappointed, though she couldn't even begin to understand why.

Harry released her, taking a necessary step back. "You can't do that."

"Do what?" she asked, stepping forward.

He took another step back, and then another as she followed, moving until his spine was pressed up against the wall. "You can't kiss me."

There was another blush on her cheeks, but this one was different. She wasn't nervous or embarrassed. She was angry — livid, actually. "Then what was all of that?" Cissy demanded, surprised by her own boldness. "Watching me and then playing that song. Tell me, please."

Harry glanced down, visibly frustrated. "It was a mistake. It was all a mistake."

The word carved a hole into her chest and penetrated her heart. She didn't think it possible. She didn't think it possible to feel so…hurt. But something about the look in his eyes told her he didn't mean what he said. The look in those eyes gave him away. The look in those eyes spoke words he never could and probably never would.

Cissy exhaled, feeling the anger dissipate, replaced with a level calmness she didn't think possible in the presence of Harry Potter.

It was clear then, what had to be done.

"I dare you to make another," she challenged, taking note of the raise in his brow. "Right here. Right now."

**A/N: Thanks for reading! **

**The bath song was "Hold On, We're Going Home" by ****_Drake (feat. Majid Jordan) _**

**and, of course, the song on the record player was "Wonderwall" by ****_Oasis_****. **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Sorry, for the hold up! I'll try to get this finished within the next few weeks. **

There was silence — long, heart-stopping silence — in the air between them. It all boiled down to that moment, the moment that was fated to decide what became of this connection. Harry couldn't help but think back to the first time they met, in that forest, when Cissy was just a little girl. She had been so small and so scared, and now she was as swift and strong as the best of them. But even then, at four and a half years of age, he had seen a glimmer of that strength in her — the strength she now radiated.

The only question left to ask was why he felt so drawn to her, in so many different ways. It wasn't about protection, not anymore. She didn't need his protection, and the longer he looked into her bright, bold eyes, the clearer the truth became. From him, she needed something different, and in that moment he realized he did not have the strength to deny her.

As if on cue, the song changed.

It went from 'Wonderwall' by _Oasis_, to 'Dirty Paws' by _Of Monsters and Men_. The acoustic strum reverberated within his chest, as she stood less than foot from him. There was a rise in the tune — build up in both the instruments and the lyrics — that echoed long after Harry took one definitive step forward. It happened quickly after that, like rainfall after a low, thunderous rumble. But in this case, the only thing that fell was the wall Harry had built around himself, and the only things that rumbled were the sounds of their respective heartbeats.

Cissy breathed in, as he combed a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. The air was thick and humid, but even then, in his presence, she felt as light as a feather. It was like that with him, with Harry Potter. She could see the hesitation in his eyes and knew that struggle. It was the same struggle she felt, knowing how others — namely her parents — would interpret their bond.

But there was no one else there that night. Just them.

The hand he used to comb her hair, cascaded several inches and brushed the skin over her pulse, feeling it quicken with each passing second. She was nervous. He could tell. He was nervous, too.

"Is this really happening?" Cissy whispered.

Harry didn't have an answer for her, only a question. "Can you — Can you feel me?"

At first, she said nothing, perplexed by his choice of words, but the truth became more apparent as time went on. Cissy clasped her hand over his and brought it to her mouth, where pressed her lips over his pulse. There was no way of telling, right then, that he wasn't alive. He felt as strong and as real as any person she had ever met. And the flutter of emotion that branched out from her chest spoke no word of lie.

"Yes," she answered, eyes closed as she continued to kiss him there, all along his wrist, and then on the other side.

It was the strangest sensation, being kissed on the hand. Harry had kissed a couple girls in his day, but none of them had ever done anything like this. It was usually the man that kissed the woman's hand — so delicately and with so much care. But the way _she _did it, made him question everything he had ever known. The physical closeness between them, combined with the beat of his heart and music in the background, told him he knew nothing about romance — and that Cissy knew all there was.

Harry exhaled, shakily, as Cissy's lips made contact with his open palm. His body leaned forward, moving closer to her in a subconscious effort to prolong the feeling that moved through his veins. He watched her with steady eyes. The way her lips puckered and pressed. The way she breathed in and out. The way she shattered each and every barrier between them and showed him what it truly meant to _want _someone.

"Cissy?" he asked, watching as her eyes flicked up and met with his.

There was a small blush on her cheeks, either from the sound of her name leaving his lips or the fact that she had gotten so carried away. "I — I'm sorry. I didn't realize I…I…"

But there was no conclusion to her hurried apology. There were no more words left to be said, nothing.

Harry leaned in, even closer, and swept her lips in a slow, sensual kiss.

* * *

The next morning, Hermione took a small detour to work. It went without saying that she cared for daughter, but the woman had never expected to care so deeply for her daughter's friends, too. Finn, of course, had moved to London from Melbourne and had no family in England, which left him alone to ponder the horrific attack that had taken place. Hermione had always made a point of inviting him for Christmas and Easter, and as she entered his room in St. Mungo's, she knew this young man was more than her daughter's best friend. He was now an extension of their family.

"Mrs. Malfoy," Finn greeted, sitting up on his hospital bed. In his hands, he held a copy of _The Great Gatsby_, which she understood to be his favourite Muggle novel.

Hermione smiled. "None of that _Mrs. Malfoy _nonsense. How are those ribs feeling?"

"I'll survive," he shrugged, returning her smile. "Oh, and, erm, thanks for bringing me here. I — I didn't have the chance to say so before."

"It's quite all right," she assured him. "Besides, it's Draco you should be thanking. He had a _right _panic when he heard what happened to you."

"Did he?" Finn asked, more than a little surprised. "I always thought Mr. Malfoy didn't like me very much."

Hermione laughed. "It's always strange for fathers, when their daughters grow up and form other relationships," she explained, thinking distantly of her own father.

There was a pause in the conversation, as her words resonated with Finn. In the last couple months of his and Cissy's friendship, he had noticed some changes in her, some things he had never taken the time to notice before, but he couldn't think about those things then — not with her mother there.

He looked to the curly-haired brunette and found her eyes lingering around the word etched into his forearm.

"I'm sure there's a way to remove that…" she voiced, glancing at him. "Does it hurt?"

"Physically? Not really, no."

The concern in Hermione's eyes deepened. "I'm so sorry this happened to you."

Finn forced a smile. "It's all right. All I really want is to go home and get back to work. Being stuck in this room is giving me cabin fever."

"I spoke to the Healers and they said you should be released either tonight or in the morning," she offered. "It would mean a lot to Cissy, my husband and myself, if you would stay with us for until you've recovered."

He pondered this for a moment. "I — I appreciate the offer, I really do, but I — I don't think that's a good idea."

Hermione frowned. "Why?"

"It's — erm — It's kind of complicated," he shrugged. "I just — I think maybe some distance would be good…between Cissy and myself."

The brunette had never been good at hiding her emotions, and right then she was beyond perplexed. "Did you have an argument?"

"No, no, never," Finn assured her. "It's nothing like that. I — I just — I can't really get into it without — without —" The young wizard paused, taking a deep breath, and glancing back at the word his attackers had used to label him. The truth was written on his face, in each and every inch of his features. "It's…complicated…"

There was one thing about Hermione's curiosity that worked out in her favour. She was very, very intuitive, and right then, her intuition gave her the answer she was looking for. "…Does she know?"

Finn didn't look at all surprised. His eyes were planted on the word. "No."

"I take it you don't plan on telling her."

"I wanted to," he offered, thinking back to the morning before the festival. "I mean all this time, I thought I was one hundred percent interested in men — and for the most part, I am — but recently it's been more of a grey area."

Hermione looked to him with understanding. "It's nice to think we, as humans, are either straight or gay, but I think most of us fall somewhere in between. It's not about labels or logic. It's feeling, pure feeling, and what you do beyond that point is your choice."

Finn nodded along. "I suppose you're right."

"You should consider telling her."

"I should," he agreed. "I just — I can't help but feel like I've betrayed her trust or something. She's — She's _changed clothes _in front of me."

Hermione opened her mouth for a moment, trying to form a mature response, and then resolved to snort with laughter. "_Oh_, _adolescence_," she reminisced, thinking back to all her awkward moments with both Harry and Ron, and the various states of undress in which they had seen over the course of their respective friendships. "I'm so glad I'm old."

**A/N: Thanks for reading this chapter! The next one should be up fairly soon. **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	6. Chapter 6

Finn was discharged from St. Mungo's later that evening. It was difficult, having to rely on other people after being independent for so long, but the Malfoy's were kind about it. His earlier conversation with Mrs. Malfoy — Hermione — had been playing and replaying in his mind since morning. She was quite persuasive, but he found he rather liked it. Though Finn would never admit it, he was glad to have a place in their home and especially, in their family.

The environment in their home was so different from his own, back in Melbourne. His mother wasn't a particularly unkind woman, but she was cold. She had never held him or told him stories, or any of that frilly stuff. It was all tough love, which he didn't mind, not really.

There was only one time in his life, when he had triggered an emotional reaction from his mother — Helena Cassidy. It was the morning he came out to her, over breakfast.

The scene was fresh in his memory.

Things had been thrown. Words had been exchanged. Lines had been drawn. It happened so fast, and before he knew it, he'd booked a Port Key straight for London with no money and absolutely no idea what to do once he arrived. It was a long time ago, and still, even after making friends within his first couple months and finding a decent flat, the only time he ever felt truly _at home _in this foreign country was when he met Cissy.

She was the new girl at the record store — younger than the others, but smart, very, very smart, and with an impressive record collection to her name. Their friendship was instant. It was nice, having someone he could trust and rely on. She was a good person with a good upbringing and an enormous heart. There was nothing in his life he valued more.

But in recent months, things had changed.

It was subtle, at first, catching her in his peripheral vision during work and smiling to himself, as she flashed him a funny face or imitated annoying co-workers when their backs were turned. And as time went on, the changes continued and grew less subtle. Before he knew it, he found himself thinking about her and smiling, even when she wasn't there — and when she was there, it was a different story.

Finn wasn't sure what bothered him more, the excruciatingly predictable cliche of falling for his best friend or the fact that there was nothing he could do about it.

They had been friends for years and in that time, he'd always dated _men _and been attracted to _men _and slept with _men_. But she was obviously not a man. She was a woman — a young, bright-eyed, intensely beautiful woman with an encyclopedia for a brain.

It was hard not to love her…and the more she made him smile and laugh with her cute, slightly obnoxious antics, it was hard not to fall _in _love with her.

Finn sighed, turning over on his bed in the guest room. "Fuck."

* * *

Draco strolled with his daughter from the record store. It was late at night, and Finn would usually see her home, but the poor bloke was bedridden, which gave Draco the chance to spend some quality time with his daughter. It had been a long time since they just hung out, without their being a lecture involved or some sort of family function. The older she got, the harder it became to be in her life. It was part of growing up, he knew, but it was a part he didn't like.

Needless to say, he missed the old days.

"Ciss?"

She turned to him, halfway done the ice cream cone they had picked up along the way. "_Yeth_?"

"I think it's time we had the talk," he told her, watching the way her face contorted into a look of horror, before realizing his error. "No, no, no! Not _that _talk. The other talk."

"Which talk is that?" Cissy asked, mortified.

Draco breathed in, relieved that his wife had taken care of _that _talk. "The one about your future."

She frowned. "Let me guess, you want me to look into the summer internship that Uncle Ron was going on about at Easter."

"Well, yes. That would be a good start."

"I'm sixteen," Cissy reasoned. "I already have a job. Isn't that enough?"

Draco had thought about this long and hard over the past couple months. In his adolescence, he had barely worked a day in his life, which resulted in a major adjustment after his parents passed. He didn't want the same for Cissy, in case something ever happened to either Hermione or himself.

"I respect your job at the record store," he started, speaking with truth. "But I think the internship would really open some new doors for you. It's not easy to get a spot at the Ministry at your age, even if it is just an internship. You should thank your Uncle Ron for recommending you."

She nodded. "I know but — but maybe I don't want to work at the Ministry."

Draco gave her a quizzical look. "I thought you wanted to be an Auror."

"I did," Cissy shrugged, finishing off the rest of her cone. "I just — I don't know. I don't want to be busy all the time like Mum and Uncle Ron, and you before you took up writing."

"I had no idea you thought about it like that…" he voiced, genuinely surprised.

She sighed. "I mean, yeah, but I don't mind being busy as long as it's something I enjoy doing."

"Like?"

Cissy glanced down, suddenly embarrassed. "Music…?" she spoke, in a voice so soft it was barely audible. "I know it's impractical and ill-advised, and doesn't utilize any of the subjects taught at school, but —"

Draco smiled. "Follow your dreams, Ciss. If music is what you want to pursue, then you have my full blessing."

The girl arched an eyebrow, more than a little taken aback. "Isn't that the complete opposite of what you should say?"

"Probably," he shrugged, unbothered. "But if someone had been there when I was around your age, to tell me to follow my dreams of being a writer instead of doing the practical thing and becoming an Auror…it would have saved both your mother and myself a lot of trouble," he furthered. "I know we don't talk about it much, but my choice in career — the hours and the stress — definitely contributed to the divorce. I thought I had to pursue a practical career, given my age and the sudden responsibility that came with an unplanned pregnancy but —"

"Dad?" Cissy interjected, scrunching her mouth. "Please, for the love of Merlin, do not go into detail about the unplanned bit."

Draco laughed, giving his daughter a sideways hug. "The point is, I want you to be happy and if pursuing a career in music makes you happy…go for it, kid."

The discomfort in her expression vanished, replaced with a smile. "It's actually great timing, because I was thinking about auditioning for one of the part-time DJ gigs on _Wizard Radio. _Finn, as well."

"Really?" her father asked, proudly.

Cissy nodded. "They're looking for a duo with good chemistry and good taste in music. It — It's like the spot was made for us. We'll get to interview bands and everything."

Draco beamed. "That sounds perfect."

"It does," she agreed, smiling. "I hope we get the gig. It would mean a lot, especially to Finn. I know he's not much older than me, but I can tell he's getting restless at the record store."

"Well, if you ever need an audience to practice your audition, you know where to find me," her father winked.

* * *

Finn pursed his eyes shut as a pair of footsteps sounded from the lounge into the corridor. It was brilliantly late, of course, but he was still awake. He figured Mr. Malfoy had slipped out of the master bedroom to watch some cheeky late night television, but as the door to the guest room opened, he found Cissy standing there, eyes squinting as she tried to distinguish whether or not he was asleep.

She had arrived earlier with her father and checked on him then, but he faked being asleep, having neither the confidence nor the energy to talk to her. Everything had sort of hit the fan since he realized his true feelings.

"Finn?" she whispered. "Are you awake?"

There was a ten second window. It was simple. All he had to do was keep his eyes closed and hope she would give up, but she stood there, waiting for him.

_Sod it. _

The young man turned over to find her at the foot of his bed with some butterbeer. She smiled with relief and then handed him one of the bottles. It had been about a day since they had spoken a word to one another, which was odd given the fact that they usually didn't go more several hours during the summer.

"First thing's first," Cissy started. "How are you feeling?"

Finn shrugged. "I'm all right," he offered, staring at her quizzically. "You're awfully chipper for two in the morning."

The smile on her face vanished, but only for a moment. "I have two things to tell you."

"Good or bad?" he asked.

"The first thing is good," Cissy told him. "I told my dad about the radio thing and he was all for it."

Finn's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Really," she confirmed. "Now for the second thing…"

"Good or bad?" he asked, again.

The blonde paused, only for a moment. "_Great._"

"Carry on," he urged, suddenly curious.

Cissy breathed in, filling her lungs to their maximum capacity, before finding the right words. "There's something I've been meaning to tell you for a long time. It — It's been a huge part of my life and — and I know I share everything with you but this — this thing is different. I wanted to tell you before the festival, when we were in my bedroom looking for clothes, but I couldn't…"

There was something strange in the way she was speaking to him. It was like reading a line from her diary or something. The quiver in her lip. The blush on her cheeks. These were all signs.

Finn sat up, placing a pillow behind his back. "You can tell me anything, Ciss. You know that."

She gave him a weak smile, as though the thoughts running through her mind would alter their friendship in some way. "The thing is…this is going to sound mental but…but I think I'm falling for someone…someone I shouldn't want…not like this."

There was a hitch in his chest. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Cissy confirmed, meeting eyes with him. "There's…kind of an age gap…and I know my parents think the world of him…but I don't know how they would feel about us being…_together_…"

Finn swallowed, rather hard. "…What's his name?"

"I'll tell you," she spoke, sounding more nervous than she looked. "Just promise you won't laugh."

"I won't laugh," he told her, holding a hand to his chest. "You have my word."

Cissy rolled her eyes at his mocking gesture, but resolved to tell him nonetheless. It happened quickly after that. The amusement left his facial features, as she leaned in. It was a simple action, but it took him by surprise. The bottle nearly fell from his grasp, saved by the knee he had propped up, which slowly went down, making room.

There were no sounds from outside, no ambiance. Just breathing.

She leaned close to him, very close. Her scent was caught in his nostrils, laced with the sweetness of butterbeer. They had been in close proximity before, but never like this, not in a bedroom late at night, with her parents down the corridor and no curfew to worry about.

There was a moment, in which Finn considered turning away and preventing this from happening, but the closer she got, the more he realized he couldn't move even if he wanted to.

His eyes slammed shut.

Hers did, as well.

The air between them rose in both tension and temperature. Their faces were inches apart, and then millimetres, and then…

She whispered a name into his ear.

_Harry Potter_, she said. _Harry Potter. _

**A/N: Thanks for reading this chapter! I understand some people find Cissy boring, and Sue-like, but whatever. I'll write her the way I want to, and if that doesn't float your boat...I'm sure there are other fics you can read. Cool? Cool. **

**Apart from that, we have a very important question to ask ourselves. Team Harry or Team Finn?! Haha. **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I'm surprised some people like/prefer Finn. Surprised and delighted. He's my favourite OC. **

There was several changes in his expression. He went from curious to confused to concerned, and then back again. She had expected as much, given what had just come from her mouth. But something about the way he looked at her gave her the impression that he was experiencing something far beyond confusion. She set down her bottle of butterbeer on the bedside table and waited, mouth scrunched to the side in a nervous fashion.

Finn opened his mouth countless times, in an attempt to find the right words to speak, but there were only two words that came out. "Fucking hell, Ciss."

She swallowed hard. "That bad?"

"That bad? That bad?" he asked, exasperated. "You're in love with a dead person, Ciss — one that's old enough to be your father. How is that even possible?"

There was a twitch in her lip at the sound of _dead_. "Let me explain."

"Please do," Finn urged, setting his bottle aside, with hers.

Cissy breathed in, waiting for the nerves to leave her system, but they didn't. "I — I told you about the Golden Snitch thing, yeah?" Her best friend nodded, just once. "Well…it turns out…when Harry gave me that snitch in the forest…he sort of…connected our worlds."

"What do you mean?"

"Harry unknowingly created a tether into the realm of the living," she explained, knowing how ridiculous it sounded. "A through-line."

Finn blinked hard. "_A tether into the realm of the living?_" he repeated. "So, what does this mean? He's been watching you this entire time?"

Cissy opened her mouth and then closed it, at a loss. "I — I don't — It's not as bad as it sounds," she blurted. "Trust me. You have to trust me."

"I'll take that as a yes," her best friend concluded, shaking his head slowly. "This is not good, Ciss. Someone as brilliant as you must know that."

"I know how it sounds," she assured him. "But it's really not that bad. We're just — We're connected. That's the best way I can explain it."

Finn massaged his temples with one hand at the sound of _connected_. "This is, like, a teen dream from hell."

"Don't be rude," Cissy frowned.

"Don't be rude?" he asked. "You're a sixteen-year-old girl and he's your bloody parents' age! _And he's dead!_"

"Shhh!" she urged, glancing back at the door. "I don't want the whole house hearing about it."

"How do you even know it's him?" Finn furthered. "It could be some creepy ghost that latched onto you in the Abyss, preying on you like a deranged sex offender."

"I know it's him," she spoke, with a surprising amount of confidence. "I just do."

The young wizard exhaled, rather deeply. "Is this why you asked me about ghosts earlier?"

Cissy nodded, rather nervously. "I've been meaning to tell you about it for ages, but there was never a good time. I mean, is there ever a good time to tell your best friend you're in love with the Chosen One?"

"Fair point."

"Oh, and before you pop off about it again, let me assure you he's not a middle-aged man. He's seventeen."

"He _looks _seventeen," Finn corrected. "He was still born in the same year as your parents."

The girl frowned, folding her arms together. "If Bella can do it, why can't I?"

"First of all, don't bring _Twilight _into this discussion — or any discussion, for that matter. Second of all, isn't Harry Potter supposed to be some noble, heroic wizard with a strict set of morals that he rarely, if ever disobeys? I highly doubt pursuing a relationship with one of his best friends' daughters falls under that description."

"It _is _a little out of character," Cissy admitted, having thought about this herself. "But the thing everyone fails to understand is that he's stuck in this hellish purgatory that — that I was meant for." She took a deep, rousing breath and pulled out the Golden Snitch from her pocket. "He took the bullet for me and this is his only escape."

The frustration left Finn's features. "I understand that," he voiced, despite himself. "I just — whatever. How long has this been going on?"

"Not long," the blonde explained. "I met him when I was four years old, but since then the connection has kind of just been this weird feeling in my chest, nothing tangible."

"But —"

"_Until _earlier this week," she furthered, looking at her friend to see that she could carry on. "I'm not sure what triggered it, but I can see him now. I can hear him. I can talk to him and…and I can…I can touch him, too."

Suddenly, the conversation took an unexpected turn.

Finn glanced down. "Have you…?"

"No," Cissy answered, neither disappointed nor embarrassed. "We kissed last night, but that's all. I — I don't think he's ready to do more than that." It was then and only then, that a small blush crept on her cheeks from the mere memory. "I'm not sure _I _want to do more than that, not until I figure out what to do."

"It's quite simple," Finn explained, using his hands as models, as he ignored the context. "The cock goes into the vagina — in and out — and if you're a clever lad, there's also this thing called the clitoris, which cannot, under any circumstances, be ignored."

Cissy snorted with laughter. "What do _you _know about the clitoris?"

"I know enough."

"_Right_."

Finn tilted his head to the side. "What? You think I've never slept with a girl?"

There was a firm arch in her brow. "_Mr. Cassidy_," she flirted. "Tell me more."

"It was during my experimental phase," he winked, after a moment of hesitation. "Long time ago."

* * *

The next morning, Hermione entered her kitchen to find it empty. Draco had left to pick up ingredients for breakfast, which meant she was alone with the kids. Both of them were still fast asleep, no doubt. She had heard some talking coming from the guest room in the night and figured her daughter had coaxed her best friend into some shenanigans. It was nice that Finn had changed his mind and decided to stay with them, but she would have to speak with Cissy and inform her the young man needed his rest.

With a long yawn, the brunette made her way from the kitchen to the corridor and found her daughter's bedroom door open just a crack. It was usually closed — due to privacy and whatever other illusions teenagers convinced themselves they needed. Hermione thought to slowly shut the door and tip-toe into the loo for a quick bath, but something caught her eye.

It was hovering over Cissy, pushing back the hair from her forehead. It was the Golden Snitch, with its bright, vibrant wings and metallic —

"Mrs. Malfoy?"

Hermione turned, startled beyond words as she came face-to-face with Finn, in the corridor. "Shit," the woman gasped, one hand on the hip and the other fanning off her face. "You gave me a good fright."

The young man suppressed his chuckle and glanced into Cissy's bedroom. "Spying?"

"It's not spying if it's under my roof," she shrugged, gesturing for him to follow her into the kitchen. "Let me fix you some tea."

"I can do it," Finn offered, moving past her and preparing the items before she had the chance to object.

Hermione had a seat at the table, and brushed the tangles from her hair with both hands. "Should you really be on your feet so soon?"

"Trust me, it's better this way," he reasoned. "So, where's Mr. Malfoy?"

"Shopping for breakfast ingredients, I presume. If there's one thing Draco is better at than writing, it's cooking. I swear it's half the reason I remarried him."

Finn laughed at this. "You are an odd pair. I'll give you that."

Hermione nodded in agreement. "Did I ever tell you about the time I slapped him for getting a Hippogriff executed and then having the audacity to laugh about it?"

"Several times," the young man winked.

"Well," she paused, thinking back. "Can you blame me? It's a _great_ story."

"Indeed," he affirmed, pouring tea into two cups and bringing them to the table. "Honest criticism. How is it?"

Hermione took one sip, paused, and then gave him a thumbs up. "Better than Draco's — but you didn't hear that from me."

The pair of them laughed together once more, interrupted as the door to the loo opened and then closed. Cissy, no doubt.

"So," the brunette furthered. "Any progress?"

Finn set down his cup. "It's not going to happen. I — I had some hope that it might but after last night, no. There's no chance."

Hermione frowned. "Give her some time. She's a smart girl. She'll come around."

* * *

Cissy entered the loo and fidgeted with the tie on her bathrobe, before feeling a pair of hands around her waist. She turned, and found him standing there, so close she could count the freckles on his face.

"Hi," he whispered, taking her by surprise with a kiss on the bridge of her nose.

There was pink on her cheeks and along her neck, as he continued. "Hi yourself."

The smile that tugged at his lips made her stomach do flips. It was so strange, being there with him when just a couple nights ago, he was hesitant about even touching her, let alone kissing her. Barely any time had passed, and already so much had changed.

"_Ciss?_" someone called from outside. "_Ciss, are you in the there?_"

The girl froze, mid-way through devouring Harry Potter's neck in a lustful kiss when suddenly, the doorknob twisted open. She pushed him off — reluctant as ever — and jumped in front of the door with incomprehensible speed.

It opened right then.

"What the —" Finn stood on the other side, bewildered. "What's gotten into you?"

_Harry, if you hadn't interrupted me. _

The blush on her cheeks deepened, and she glanced behind her. He was gone. The loo was empty save for her and Finn. She exhaled, slightly relieved and slightly annoyed all the same, and looked to her best friend, only then realizing he was standing there in nothing but boxers, with a towel slung over his shoulder.

Her eyes lingered over him for longer than expected. "Erm — sorry. I was just — I was brushing my teeth and — and —"

Finn held a hand over his nose. "You didn't do a very good job. Morning breath. Ugh."

Cissy grimaced, back to her usual self. "You're such a twat."

"And you're a knob," he smiled, moving past her and stripping off his towel, before climbing into the shower.

She followed him with her gaze, eyebrows as high as possible and not a single word in the English language that could describe the shock and simultaneous curiosity flowing through her veins. Cissy paused, and gave her head a slight shake, hearing the shower turn on. The entire loo was filled with steam before she found the ability to breath, let alone move.

It meant nothing.

It was only the result of having Harry there just moments before.

She took a deep, all-encompassing breath and made her way into the corridor.

**A/N: Thanks for reading this chapter! Any theories for what will happen next? I've left some hefty easter eggs here and there. **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


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